Like most people, I had a very active imagination as a child: I truly lived inside my mind. But at a very young age I recognized my ability to bring all of my dreams and fantasies into the real world. Drawing, painting and building were not activities to me. The need to create was like the need to breathe, and I inhaled with my eyes and exhaled through my hands. In the sixth grade I was selected to attend classes at Herron School of Art in Indianapolis. Everybody was older and more experienced than me. As a little kid with broken glasses, I'm sure I stuck out in class. But I never felt more in my own element. Later, during high school, I started neglecting my passion for art and begin focusing on the more mainstream pastimes of "normal" teenagers. I thought I was doing myself a favor by trying to fit in, but it turned out to be a strategy that abandoned my overwhelming strengths and uncovered my true weakness. I spent the first sixteen years of my life building an identity. I was "Kris the Artist". I knew exactly how to express myself, and let my hands do all the talking. Unfortunately, I then spent twelve long years trying to fit into myself into this image of normalcy that I had stuck in my mind. It turned out to be really long and difficult way of figuring out exactly who I am not. Slowly my desire to create reemerged. Once again, I began to trust and believe in my hands. Today, I know them to be my true voice.